“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because father would be standing there with the rope’s-end.”
This was so much to the point that Sydney did not try to pursue that vein of conversation, and they again travelled on in silence till Pan spoke—
“Wish you were back in your bed, Master Syd?”
“No,” said the latter sharply.
“Course you don’t; ’cause your uncle would be one side o’ the bed and the captain the other, and that would be worse than being here, wouldn’t it?”
No answer.
“You’d ketch it, wouldn’t you, Master Syd?”
Still no answer; and Pan plodded on in silence, wondering whether his young master would always be so quiet and strange.